


Cookies, Cowls, and Coping Mechanisms

by completelyhopeless



Series: Lost Where the Cookies Are Schway [6]
Category: Batman Beyond, DCU
Genre: Cookies, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Some Humor, Some angst, hints of tim/stephanie, possible crack because... cookies, possible dick/babs, stephanie flirts with dick again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terry gets another nickname, maybe two, Dick is hiding things, Jason gets some cookies, and then Barbara ends up needing to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookies, Cowls, and Coping Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had part of this written before, but then I... I had a bad day, switched to the YJ universe stories I've been working on because they were easier at first and then all consuming. I applied what I learned from that, though, and reorganized the scenes (the first scene is now the last) and after some editing and additions... I have this.
> 
> I'm a bit iffy on it, but I do like the Dick/Babs scene. A lot. It ended angstier in its original version, though. That might have been better.
> 
> CaraLee came up with Bumblebat. Catlad was suggested by someone else. Alfred using culinary revenge isn't my idea, either. It just fit with the whole cookie obsession in this story.

* * *

“Your nocturnal habits are becoming troublesome, Grayson.”

Dick stopped just inside the batcave, looking around at the group like he wasn't expecting them all to be here, and Terry wondered why that was. Did they all go home after something like that? He knew he would have to, but then he didn't live with Mr. Wayne. He had appearances to keep up. Damian, at least, seemed to live here. What about the others? Did they have homes? Tim shouldn't, not from what Terry knew of him, but then this wasn't the Tim he knew.

“I see you all decided you had to wait until I got back,” Dick began. “Not necessary. I'm fine. You can stop worrying now.”

“I am not worried.”

Dick just laughed, which annoyed Damian more but made the others smile. Terry, at least, was relieved to see him. Damian might not be willing to admit he'd been worried, but Terry had been. He'd been distracted at first, wrapping up the whole Mad Hatter thing with the others—trying to help a bunch of mind controlled cops was _not_ fun, not when Tetch had tried to turn them on each other _and_ every bat that was around at the time.

“Everyone is back in Arkham,” Dick said, moving past them to take the seat at the computer. “Is there a reason why you're all standing here waiting for me? You know where your beds are, and I don't think there's any of you that want me tucking you in.”

“Well...” Batgirl began. “I'm not sure _I_ would mind, but then I don't think that's the kind of tucking in you had in mind.”

“Stephanie!” Tim said, and she smirked at him. Terry shook his head. He had a feeling she was doing it just to mess with Red Robin, and he swore the guy didn't get it. Dick apparently did—or he just wanted to ignore it. 

“Since you are here and I missed how the end of the Arkham round-up went...” Dick leaned back in the chair and watched them. Terry found the cowl looking at him to be kind of creepy, and he wondered if his own suit was that way or if it was just the night and the way Dick had disappeared twice and the whole Joker killing thing. “Who feels like filling me in?”

“Well,” Batgirl began, grinning, “Bumblebat over there—”

“Hey! I am _not_ a bumble bee or a bumble anything,” Terry protested. “It's bad enough you call me Batboy, but Bumblebat? That's ridiculous.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “You were the one that fell and almost let Hatter get away.”

“That's not what happened,” Terry said, glaring back at her. She smirked at him again. He kind of wanted to smack her—and he didn't usually hit girls—but for the whole Batboy name and now the Bumblebat one—he just might. “It wasn't like that at all.”

Dick pushed off the cowl and rubbed at his neck. “What was it like?”

Terry grimaced. “I think the suit's damaged. One of the thrusters malfunctioned, and yes, I fell right as I'd narrowed in on Hatter, but I am not... bumbling.”

Batgirl shrugged. “You have a suit like Blue Beetle. The name still fits.”

“Blue who?”

Dick sighed. “Please tell me there is just no Blue Beetle in your world and this isn't another lack of education on your end. Bruce _does_ teach you about who came before you—not just as Batman or any of his villains but also the other heroes, right? Our Blue Beetle isn't even the first Blue Beetle.”

“He may not exist in my world,” Terry said, shrugging. “I think I'm more worried about the suit being damaged than anything else. Well... Except maybe this whole nickname thing. First Batboy, now Bumblebat—I want a non-humiliating codename.”

Batgirl glared at him. “I gave you good names.”

“You could always ask Catwoman if she'd agree to let you be called Cat-lad.”

Terry put a hand to his head. “You know I'm Batman, right? I am not—”

“You are not Batman. Grayson is. This was proven. This is indisputable.” Damian turned to him. “Do not call yourself Batman again.”

“Damian, stand down. Where he lives, he _is_ Batman. I just happen to be Batman here.”

“Yes. And I would like to know where you were,” Damian said to Dick. “You are always saying that we need teamwork. That we cannot go rushing off on our own. Yet you disappeared twice tonight.”

“You did plenty of teamwork,” Dick said, pointing to the others. “All of you did, and it was good work. There's no secret about where I was—I dealt with Two-Face and other Arkham escapees. And I tracked down Jason to thank him before the night was over because I knew he wouldn't come back here and telling him I appreciated what he did mattered.”

Damian snorted. “That kind of sentimentality is a weakness.”

“That kind of sentimentality could have spared Jason and Bruce and this city a lot of pain,” Dick disagreed. “If Jason knew how much Bruce really cared about him, maybe none of this would have happened. We wouldn't have that rift between us. Maybe he wouldn't have needed revenge. You know why I reached him tonight? Because I admitted I cared enough to cross that line. I hope this means that Jason can find his way back to us. I don't know that it will, but I refuse to see that as a weakness.”

“It's not,” Batgirl said, and Terry almost expected her to say something about how it was hot, but she just smiled sadly. “I kind of think a gang war could have been avoided if... Well, you know.”

Dick nodded. “I do. And I think you may be right.”

“I can look at the suit,” Red Robin offered. “I'm pretty good with technology. And we have a few other people we can ask if we need to.”

“In the meantime, I'm sure you'll find Alfred has some clothes for you—”

“Um, about Alfred—”

“I'd watch what you eat for the next few days,” Dick said with a smile. “Alfred's revenge is usually culinary. It was _very_ effective in keeping Bruce in line. Is there anything else I need to know about?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Batgirl and Red Robin said at the same time. “Robin had his sword when he went after Killer Croc.”

Damian glared at both of them, but before he could attack them, Dick had hold of him. “Enough. I think I know why you had the sword. I understand it. That doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Today was a long, hard day for everyone. We'll discuss this tomorrow. For now, I want everyone to get some sleep. We may have put everyone back in Arkham, but that doesn't mean this is over.”

“I thought you knew who did it,” Tim said with a frown. “What happened?”

“I haven't finished that,” Dick said, and Terry wondered why he thought Dick was lying about that. None of the little tells Mr. Wayne had told him to look for, nothing the suit could pick up. “I said it wasn't over. Tomorrow will be a different sort of battle. Get some rest. That goes for all of you.”

“And you?” Terry asked with a frown. “What are you going to do?”

“Me? I have to take some cookies to Jason. I promised him, and I really do try to keep my promises.”

* * *

“I thought you were kidding about the cookies.”

Jason would have been amused by the fact that Batman had just showed up at his door with a plate of cookies if he didn't know that it was Dick under there and that whatever led him here was worse than anything else that had been out there tonight. Considering that Joker and Two-Face had escaped from Arkham, that was saying something.

“I know.”

“Seriously, you didn't have to bring cookies. This is ridiculous.”

“Would you feel better if I told you I was doing this to keep Tim and the others off my back for a while?” Dick said, shoving the cookies at him. Jason grunted as the plate connected with his stomach.

Jason snorted. “Since when are you scared of the kiddies tracking you?”

“There are times when even Batman doesn't want to be followed. Times when he doesn't want to be stopped.”

Jason studied him. “You planning on crossing the line?”

“Not as far as you would.” Dick leaned against the wall. “And I already did. It's just a matter of... cleaning up afterward.”

“You know, making up with me just so I'll help you hide the bodies is messed up even for this family.”

Dick laughed. “I don't have a body to hide. I didn't go that far. Give me one of those cookies.”

“Hell, no. These are _mine,_ Golden Boy, and I don't share.”

Dick turned to leave, and Jason swore in his head, telling himself he was an idiot, and he was, but he still did it. “If you did need to hide the body—”

“I know where to find you,” Dick said with a smile. “I won't ever take you up on that offer, Jason, but thank you. I know what that means to you, even if it's something I would never want you to do for me. I don't want anyone killing for my sake.”

“Like I'd kill for you.”

“You _didn't_ kill anyone for me, and that is more important,” Dick said, grinning at him in a way that would have gotten him the plate to the head if Jason wasn't unwilling to lose Alfred's cookies to the dick over there.

He looked down at the plate and allowed himself a small smile. Alfred's cookies _were_ the best.

* * *

“Damage control. We need... damage control.”

Barbara turned around, not liking what she heard in Dick's voice or in the way he came toward her desk. She hadn't seen him like this since—she winced. Not since that night when Firefly had burned Haly's. She didn't want to think about that, could not afford to let the past repeat itself now. Dick was still with it enough to bypass her security, but she wasn't sure if that was just survival instinct or if Dick was functioning at any level close to what he should be.

He sat down on the floor next to her chair. “I think I'm getting better at this than I should ever have been. Not that we don't have reasons to be good liars, that we don't need to be, but the way I was tonight... I think I sicken myself.”

She pushed the cowl off his head. Somehow it seemed like it would help. “What happened?”

“I managed to keep them all from knowing what I did earlier. Smiled, laughed, shared cookies,” Dick snorted. He let his head rest against her knee. “It's wrong. They should have known I was barely holding it together. I don't like fooling them.”

She let out a breath. “You're Batman. You _have_ to be able to fool them. It's part of the myth. We all believed Bruce was invulnerable and untouchable when we were younger. They still need to believe that of you, Dick. I'm sorry.”

“I know that.” He let out a breath. “It's just... I... I lost my temper, Babs. It's bad.”

“Bad like what you finally admitted to Jason earlier or bad like the time a few creeps needed reconstructive surgery they'd never be able to afford?” She tried to keep her voice gentle, add a light teasing to maybe bring his spirits up, trying not to let his appearance and behavior get to her too much. She couldn't let it, not right now.

Dick shifted, bumping his head against her knees. “I couldn't stand it. He... he was laughing at me... with Bruce's face... I... I lost it. I...”

“Oh, Dick,” she whispered, her hands going into his hair. She combed through it as she tried to think of what they'd do now.

“I couldn't let him keep Bruce's face. I know we needed him, but I couldn't. I didn't,” Dick said, letting out a breath as he shifted positions. He looked up at her. “So... what now? I mean, he's not recognizable as Bruce anymore. Not as Thomas Elliot. I... I considered giving him permanent nerve damage so he could never give himself Bruce's face again, but I'd already pummeled his face and I had to stop myself...”

“Take a minute and breathe. Please.”

“I... I already did. I had to. I got myself together enough to let them see me. They... They needed me, needed to see that I was.... okay, even if I'm not.”

She let out a breath. “You have been pushing aside everything you're feeling so that you can take care of everyone. Damian especially, but you did it for Gotham, too. Once, maybe, you wanted to be Batman, but that was a long time ago. Right now, you'd give anything to have him alive and go back to being Nightwing.”

“You know me way too well.” Dick let out a breath. “It's more that I'd like him to be alive. I could have gone on being Nightwing without him if... if the damned city hadn't fallen apart without Batman.”

“I know.”

“I think we might have to make it official,” Dick whispered. “After what I did to Hush... Let's just declare Bruce dead. I know Tim will hate me for it because he doesn't believe Bruce _is_ dead, and Damian will hate me for... for more reasons than I want to think about... The fallout will be ugly, but I don't know what else we can do.”

Barbara didn't like it, either, but she hadn't liked using Elliot to impersonate Bruce, either. They'd done it because they had to, because Bruce's absence was too suspicious, because they needed someone as a figurehead for Wayne Enterprises and Dick wasn't up to taking that on, too, and he shouldn't have to, but for all that Bruce had contingency plans, for all that they all knew what they did was dangerous and could cost them their lives, none of them had been prepared for Bruce dying. Dick stepped up into the role because he was the oldest—the oldest former Robin, at least—and because he had the most training and because he was a natural leader and because in every way that mattered, really mattered, he was Bruce's son and heir. That didn't make him ready for any of this. None of them were. Dick managed to fool people into thinking he was coping and had moved past it, but she knew better.

Dick hadn't been able to grieve, and she didn't know how long anyone could keep up under the strain he was under—this was Dick, though, so he would keep on until he absolutely couldn't anymore—but something had to give.

She was actually _glad_ that something was Thomas Elliot.

“Do you think we can use something that rapidly ages Terry so he can impersonate Bruce for a while? Damian doesn't look enough like him and I think the dangers of aging him are apparent to all of us whereas Terry is a near perfect copy of Bruce at that age and he's got a good head for the most part. He lacks some training but he's got... heart. I like him.”

Barbara almost laughed. “You like everyone.”

“Not true. Almost, but not. I hate the bad guys. Oh, how I hate the bad guys...” Dick lifted his head and looked up at her. “I don't want to go back to the manor. Not tonight. I don't know if Tim stayed, but even if he didn't, Terry and Damian are there and I should be there, especially since Terry drugged Alfred—”

“He did what?”

“He switched the drugs Alfred was going to give him and Alfred got the sedative instead of him. I knew he'd done it as soon as he showed up with Damian. I figured he would if Alfred didn't sedate him. There's no way anyone in a batsuit or raised by a bat would stay in the cave on a night like tonight,” Dick said, letting out a breath. “He's still a good kid. He is. And Damian is, too, in his way, but they shouldn't be alone right now. I should go.”

Barbara shook her head. “Give it a few hours. I'll have some strategies for you when you wake up.”

“I am not the only one who needs sleep,” Dick said. He looked at her. “Don't make me carry you into your bedroom. I'll do it. I'm Batman.”

She shouldn't, but she laughed. “You know that doesn't change anything.”

“Sure it does,” he said, reaching up for her hand. “And... if I'm really honest about this, Babs, a part of me is scared that what happened last time we were like this will happen again. I don't think I could take that right now. I... I can't lose your support. Not now.”

“You won't. I just want to get something started before I call it a night.”

“It's morning now.”

“Dick—”

“I'll put the cowl back on and pick you up if I have to.”

“You'd fall right over. You're exhausted. Go sleep.”

“I have cookies. I didn't give them all to Jason.”

Damn. “I suppose you won't share them unless I agree to sleep.”

“You are a smart woman, Barbara Gordon. Smartest I know.” He grinned, and she wanted to smack him, but she sighed and allowed herself to be bribed into sleep. She could use it, and all of this would keep for a few hours. “I'll even let you have one cookie now.”

“Two.”


End file.
